


Will the Rain Come Again

by TheLonelyTree



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE GOOD STUFF, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, But you have to wait for it, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mental Torture, My OC's are mostly evil, Nail pulling, Original Character(s), Parental Roy Mustang, Parental!Roy, Parental!Royed, Physical Torture, Torture, Triggers, Waterboarding, oh yeah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyTree/pseuds/TheLonelyTree
Summary: After a getting in the way of a seemingly ordinary hostage situation, Ed and Roy find themselves captives to a merciless group of Amestrian traitors. This is a torture fic, so read with caution. Rating will go up in the future. Parental!RoyEd
Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang
Comments: 29
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, here is the first chapter of my messed up story. This will have many trigger warnings which I'll label when we get to them, but if you dislike blood and gore, please don't read because this is a torture fic. I'll label each chapter rating. as I go.
> 
> Rating: T
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, Drug Use
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, , all rights go to Hiromu Arakawa

It had happened quickly. So quickly that Edward missed the drawing of the gun. All he heard was the terrified shout of the victim before it was too late. A man dressed in a trenchcoat straight out of those second-rate mystery novels stood with another man in his grasp, pressing the muzzle of the gun to his head.

There was a reason why the military didn't send its state alchemists to negotiate hostage situations. Things had a tendency to get messy fast and all it took was one glance at that silver pocket watch until _bang_ , the hostage was dead.

It was much safer to send lower ranking officers or even simple soldiers. Protocol dictated that anyone with a rank of major or above should monitor the situation from afar and, if needed (people usually lost the nerve before any serious damage could take place), call for assistance.

Ed couldn't just sit back and do nothing, however. Not when the hostage had already captivated him with his pleading eyes, asking for someone - anyone - to save him. The Fullmetal Alchemist discreetly made his way forward, toeing past the frozen citizens in the street.

A muted clanking sound from behind him assured Ed that his brother was backing him up, preparing a transmutation circle while he entered the situation with a more direct approach.

Keeping his eyes on the pair, he noticed the criminal lean down and whisper something in his hostage's ear. He was too far away to hear what had been said, but it was obviously a threat of some kind because the other man shivered, skin going white with fear.

The hostage shakily nodded his consent with _something_ and the two adjusted their positioning, rearranging themselves so that the one with the gun could hold the other's neck in his grasp and the other had his hands free. They began to shift down to the ground, the gun never leaving it's spot at the man's head.

Now that he was out of the line on sight, Ed readied his hands to clap, planning on trapping the criminal in the ground, when a civilian sprung into action.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Edward clenched his fists in frustration. The speaker's voice was just to the left of him, which meant Mr Trenchcoat's attention would be caught in this particular area.

It was a good thing that he wasn't wearing his red coat, because if he was, even if the man was one of those people who thought his brother was the famed "Fullmetal Alchemist," he could probably connect enough dots to realize he was - in some way, shape, or form - connected to the military. As it was, though, trenchcoat villain's gaze didn't even catch on his person as they sifted through the crowd in search of the offender.

"Who said that?" a gruff voice questioned. The gun started to drift away from the prisoner's head and _dammit, if the other guy could have just been ten more feet away from him!_

"It's me." The civilian's voice was louder, _closer_ this time. Way closer. It startled Ed out of his singular focus and forced him to look at the other out of his own curiosity.

This man was tall, maybe taller than Major Armstrong, but had a rather sinewy build. Dark hair fell out over his eyes casting a shadow onto the sickly pale pallor of his skin, further displaying hollowed out bones. The combination made him look like some freakish ghoul depicted in one of the stone statues of Liore. What was even more disturbing was the confident tone he had when he spoke. He wasn't scared of the criminal at all.

_Is this some sort of undercover agent?_

Ed searched the streets for Al, trying to get some sort of reassurance, but the suit of armor was lost to the gathering crowd.

"Ahh, I didn't expect to see you so soon." The criminal was talking again, but what he just implied… Ed hoped he was wrong. The wide grin on his face was convincing him otherwise.

"You weren't supposed to. You were supposed to wait until I got done with my job. Until I gave you the go ahead."

_So they were working together._ Ed started edging away.

"Hold on," the guy said, speaking directly to him. A tight grip caught onto his forearm, halting his momentum. "The military is probably already onto us, no thanks to this dumbass over here, but I'm willing to bet that a kid playing hero and reporting us will just add to our problems. Besides, two hostages is better than one."

A second gun was added to the mix, only this time it was pressed against him.

"'Kay, let's head out." In a louder, much more threatening voice, he said, "And if anyone wants to play hero and interfere…" The safety of the gun clicked off. "Well, this one gets shot."

Ed didn't react as a normal person probably should have. That being, that he didn't react at all.

He didn't have any doubts as to whether or not he could take the guy out; it was a definitive win on his part. The problem was that by acting on his own behalf, he'd be jeopardizing the safety of the other hostage.

As long as his brother managed to create a distraction from afar, he'd be able to escape and free the hostage without harm.

But that raises the question, _what the hell was Al doing?_

As if answering his thoughts, a large flash of light followed by the unmistakable alchemical energy pulsed from a few yards away. The first criminal, already having the gun loose in his hands after confronting his partner, dropped the weapon altogether as he was encased in a solid stone hand.

The hostage quickly scrambled up and took his leave.

Following his brother's lead, Ed clapped and transmuted his automail arm into a blade, head-butting his captor and escaping his grip. The pale man stepped back in pain, clenching his hand to his face. Ed went in for a strike, narrowly missing.

"Why you little-" He was cut off by a solid hit on his side, sending him tumbling to the floor, gun sprawling from his hands.

"Don't call me short!"

Ed was just about to finish the fight off by knocking the guy out when another, much less stable, alchemic flash made itself known. The trenchcoat man had freed himself from Al's trap.

_So they were alchemists then. This one was, at least._

And he was heading straight towards him.

"Al, care to help your brother out?" It wasn't like he couldn't do it on his own, but he'd prefer to keep city damage to a minimum. He was already going to get in trouble with Mustang for his engagement with the criminals in the first place.

Instead of an answer, all he got was distant clanging and the sound of crumbling rock. It was too late to worry about property damage now, he sighed, the environment was already a victim in this.

Edward watched the trenchcoat man sprint closer and took a step forward himself, baiting the guy only to lean backwards at the last moment. He couldn't contain his gleeful smile when the guy flew over him.

"Not exactly so tough, now are you? Attempting to kidnap someone in broad daylight? Bad decision." He bent down and clapped, blindings of stone wrapping around the alchemist's hands to prevent him from transmuting.

_Bang!_

A gun went off in the distance. Ed froze, astonished at the fact that he wasn't feeling any pain. He poked and prodded at his black jacket for any wet spots indicating blood. Nothing.

Turning around to where he heard the shot go off, he saw Lieutenant Hawkeye holding a smoking pistol in her grip. Behind her was the colonel and few soldiers he only recognized by face.

"Are you good, Alphonse?" she questioned. She must have shot the guy that was fighting him.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant. Thank you."

Oh, he definitely wasn't going to get out of property damage on this one. "Lieutenant Hawkeye. Colonel Mustang. What are you doing here?"

It was Mustang who spoke. "Edward, aren't you supposed to be in Yous Well?"

Well, he was… but the mission was a complete bust. Even if you didn't factor in the obviously fake lead on the philosopher's stone, the town had everything covered already. He told his CO as much.

"I understand, but shouldn't you be- dammit, Fullmetal, he's getting away!" The Flame Colonel spared no time as he took off into the streets at a breakneck pace, Ed following closely at his heels.

"Why would you turn your back to him when you knew he wasn't secure?"

"You startled me!"

"You shouldn't have- argh! We don't have time for this. Where the hell did he go?"

They slowed to a stop in an empty alleyway, filling it with their panting breaths. The escapee was nowhere in sight.

"I don't see him anywhere." Ed chimed in.

"Yeah, well with all the noise we're making, I doubt he'd want to stick around." That earned the man a flat glare. It wasn't his fault that Mustang insisted on chewing him out.

"So," he said in a much lower voice, "do continue to search or regroup with the team?"

"We search. Together. I don't want you running into this guy alone."

That miffed Ed a little. He wasn't much of a challenge; in other words, apprehending the dude would be a piece of cake. "What, you worried about me? I had him earlier, just so you know. If you hadn't interrupted me, then he would already be in cuffs by now."

"We weren't interrupting you. _You_ were supposed to be in East City giving your report, not gallivanting out in the streets picking fights with people you aren't even allowed to make contact with. And if you must know, I'm rather more worried about the inevitable paperwork that would find its way into my desk if I let you go after this guy solo. Who knows how much it'll cost in damage fees."

Of course, the guy had to be a total bastard about this too. God (and he only meant this as the expression) knows that he didn't get enough of a power trip exercising his ego in the office.

"Ha ha, very funny. But if the guy gets away because we wasted all of our time talking, then I reserve full rights to blame this all on you."

"I'm pretty sure Hawkeye would have an excuse to fire her gun at me then." The man's face became pinched at the thought. "Okay, lets go."

They shut their mouths after that, wary to make a sound in case they alerted their target. It was maybe after fifteen minutes of searching that Ed broke the silence. "By now, I think it's too late to find him. We should have just regrouped earlier."

Mustang tightened his lips in frustration, saying, "With any luck, one of the others will have already found him. Not that either of us are particularly lucky..."

Ed looked up at Mustang, wondering what the man was referencing. "Al's much better at chases than me anyways. He doesn't get tired. He'll probably be a better help than me anyways."

"Maybe, but your brother isn't the one enrolled in the military, now is-" A low rumbling sound could be heard in the distance. "Can you hear that?"

"Yeah - sounded like a car - but I didn't think we were that close to the street anymore…"

A large grin spread across the Colonel's face. "We aren't." He lifted up his hands, adjusting his gloves. "Okay, follow behind me. Quietly. We don't want to alert them to our presence until it's too late."

They neared the edge of a building, creeping their heads around the brick wall. Sure enough, there was a large vehicle ready to drive off. The windows were blacked out by the sunlight, so Ed couldn't see inside, but the people arguing in muted tones were unmistakable.

He readied his hands to clap.

"No!" a harsh whisper ground out. "The light of the transmutation will scare them off."

"Oh come on! They won't be able to react on time."

"This might be the only chance we have to get any information out of them. Chances are, if we catch them and they end up being more than just the run of the mill criminals, then they'll stay tight-lipped until the very end. Right now, they don't know that they're in any danger. I'm moving in closer. Stay here."

Ed knew the logic of that command, but he wanted to listen in on their conversation as well, even though it was for something as silly as satisfying his curiosity. "Fine, but I want to know what's going on as soon as we get back to East City."

Mustang ignored him.

Had the guy they were chasing simply disappeared into the streets, Ed might have thought that this was nothing more than a simple kidnapping attempt, nothing more. But the car was too fancy for anything as petty as a ransom - this dude was totally loaded - and with the guy left behind and the new voice in the car, that makes at least four people in on the crime.

Then, there was a little flashback to where the sickly dude holding him at gunpoint had said he'd already finished his job, whatever that meant. This was definitely an organized crime.

Bringing his attention back to the Colonel, he found that Mustang had moved to a hiding spot behind three grimy old trash cans considerably closer to the running vehicle.

_At least they hadn't decided to drive off yet._

Wait. He saw Mustang's back flinch; Ed strained to hear the words, leaning forward unconsciously. "-almost here."

"Taking him long enough."

"Let's just hope that he was successful, Gustav is already going to have our heads as it is."

"Wait. I think I see him."

Ed realized what they were talking about too late as a fist came swinging down onto his head. It didn't knock him out, but it did send him sprawling, a nauseous feeling immediately washing over him.

"Fullmetal!"

He didn't have to look to know that the Colonel sent a large wave of fire at his attacker. The heat washing over him was evidence enough.

"I'm fine," he waved him off, shakily rising to his feet.

A second wave of fire came rushing past his face.

"Damn military, making our lives all the more difficult. Hold on, I'm gonna try something." Ed didn't have to strain to hear them this time; the voice was loud and clear. What was even more clear was the revving of the car's engine, much louder than the steady thrum from earlier.

His eyes widened as the car was suddenly right in front of him and _holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, I'm going to die,_ but a flash of blue blocked his vision right in time.

Mustang held his body protectively over him, hugging Ed close, and moments later there was a jarring impact, sending them crashing into the ground. The Fullmetal Alchemist let out a pained grunt at being landing on, but that was nothing compared to the sheer agony expressed in the Colonel's yell.

Ed dared to look, finding the man lying prone on his legs, unmoving.

"Colonel? Mustang? Colonel Mustang!"

There was no response.

A pair of hands attached themselves to his shoulders and heaved. Ed was dragged, kicking and screaming, out from under Mustang, alchemy forgotten.

"Shit! He's going to alert the whole city! Get the rope!"

Ed wrestled with his captors, but it was a three against one, and he was already at a ground disadvantage in the first place. Soon, he was tightly gagged with a thick rope. They had managed to wrap it around his head, which left tangled knots in his hair and his cries a muffled speak, at best.

That still didn't stop him from attempting to scream.

Ed wriggled on the ground, managing to shake his captors off for a few moments, before they doubled down on him and pinned him with unforgiving force. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an unrecognizable man unfurling rope from a coil and approaching the unconscious colonel.

Mustang still hadn't moved.

He called out from beneath his gag, hoping against hope that the man was just playing dead to jump up and surprise them all.

"Wait a second," Ed heard ghoul-face say, "this one is an alchemist too. Help me find his transmutation circle."

He was flipped over, though not without a struggle. Multiple sets of hands began to tear at his clothes, lifting up his sleeves and untucking his shirt from his trousers. The feeling was violating - despite the fact that they did nothing but check for some nonexistent circle - and left him with shivers down his spine.

"Do you think that maybe it's hidden in the metal arm?" This was the voice of the new guy, the one that hit him behind the head. He tried to profile the rugged face for when he escaped so that he could report him, but with each passing moment, it seemed less and less likely that he could even land

_If only he could free his arms..._

"That seems like it's the case."

"I'm not that familiar with metal-based alchemy, but I can try to destroy it if you'd like."

Ed's eyes widened. That would leave him defenseless. With no way to use alchemy and with Mustang horribly injured…

He bucked his torso, trying to free himself with new vigor. One of them sat on him to keep him in place. With a grunt, the guy sitting on him said, "Not now. Boss wants alchemists. And this one is one. He'll already be pissed at us for leaving one of our targets, so lets make sure he can try them out right away. We just have to secure the hands real tightly. One of you, pick up the Flame Alchemist. We'll dispose of him somewhere out of state."

That drew a whimper out of Ed. Even though Mustang had taken the brunt of the impact from the crash, he had never thought he was dead. It had only been unconscious. Had they checked already? Were they sure he was dead? They had tied him up so he wasn't dead, right?

His mind was beginning to be overwhelmed as he panicked. He was being kidnapped. He was being kidnapped and his biggest hope of being rescued was possibly dead. Not only that, but what would happen if he did escape? He'd just lost one of the only adults he'd ever trusted.

He'd ever cared about.

How could he just walk down the military halls, serving under some new officer, pretending that he wasn't haunted by the face of the man who'd given him the hope of moving forwards in the first place? How could he ignore that?

No. The bastard wasn't dead. He couldn't be. Ed had felt his breath hot on his shins. He had heard it too. Labored and breathy, sure.

But Mustang was alive.

He twisted his head around, managing to get a glimpse of black hair before it was lifted out of view. At least, wherever they were going, Mustang was going too. They were going out of state. That meant he had about a day, maybe more - if they were trying to disguise their tracks - before anything permanent happened.

_If they were just able to escape before then..._

A strong grip on his neck halted his thoughts. Ed snapped his head up in a knee-jerk reaction, but a rough hand grabbed a hold of his braid and shoved him back down.

"Easy there, little alchemist," one of them said, "You don't want this to go in wrong."

A small, cold sensation at the back of his neck made his breath catch in his throat. _They were going to drug him. They were going to drug him and he would be out cold, possibly for days. Then what would happen to Mustang? Would he wake up in time to get them out of here? Or would he be just as helpless as Ed?_

The needle was shoved in.

* * *

"First Lieutenant, they've been gone for a very long time. Should we go searching for them?" Alphonse liked to think that his brother could handle himself - and if he couldn't, he had the Colonel - but they'd been gone for over an hour now, and he was starting to get worried.

"I've already sent out Commander Matthews and Officer Evans. We don't want to be missing when they come back."

"I know, but maybe I could just go and help-"

"Absolutely not. You don't have any means of communicating with us, and you know how your brother will react if he comes back to find you missing."

He'd probably storm straight back into the streets looking for him. Not because he doubted Alphonse's abilities, but because he was worried about him picking up another stray cat - 'but brother, they're just so adorable,' 'no, they're not,' - or something of the sort.

Alphonse sighed, the metal sound reverberating throughout the suit of armor. "I guess you're right. Brother would trust me to be able to handle myself." He smartly left out the little tidbit about the cats. "But I just have a bad feeling, and no matter what I think, it won't go away."

Hawkeye moved her watchful stare to him and smiled softly. "I understand that feeling too, Alphonse, but that's just what comes with having someone you love that deeply. No matter where they go, we always want to be there to protect them." Alphonse pretended not to notice the worried glint in her eyes.

Something just wasn't right.

* * *

Ed came to consciousness around the same time the rumbling had stopped, though, at first, he had found it hard to process much in his awakened state.

It was dark. He was uncomfortably hot. _Why did he feel so sore?_

The itchy, biting feeling at his wrist was what truly woke him up. He tried to move his hand to inspect the source of the pain, but only found it tightening further.

Stretching his back to check his bindings presented another problem. It wasn't just his wrists that were tied. His arms were crossed over each other in a x-like shape, secured at the forearms and strapped down to his body with a length of rope that traveled across his stomach.

Because the bastards had something of a rope fetish, his ankles were tied as well, though Ed couldn't feel it thanks to his thick leather boots - not to mention his missing leg. When he pulled, however, he was definitely met with resistance.

Ed was just grateful they hadn't decided to hogtie him.

He stretched his fingers to see if the tips could touch, but he was met with empty air. _Dammit_ , he thought, even flexing his wrists didn't help.

Edward played with the gag in his mouth, now improved with a piece of cloth shoved inside. If he got it out, then maybe he could form some sort of plan with Mustang. _Mustang!_

Ed turned his inspections outward, looking for the other man in the low-lighting…

There! He could just make out the form of another body in the low-light.

"Mrrrpphh" he tried unsuccessfully, the words not making it out of his throat. Scoffing internally, Ed thrust his legs out, using the momentum to roll his body into the other man's. They collided with a soft thud. Bruises gone unnoticed before had decided to let their protests be known, and Ed cursed through his breath.

"Muurrrrrpphhh!" he tried again, equally as successful as the first. This time, the attempt only left him with a pathetic grunt and dry tongue.

In frustration he kicked out at the body, earning him a quiet moan of discomfort.

That wasn't Mustang. The voice was too high-pitched.

"Would you shut up already? No one's going to want to listen to your pathetic whimpers while we're unpacking."

Ed huffed out an angry breath at this. _Where. Was. Mustang._

A shadowed face appeared over him and his neck was splattered with spittle as rambunctious laughter reverberated around him. "Trust me, you won't be kept waiting for long. Boss has got plans for ya. Might as well save your throat the trouble."

Ed squinted his eyes at him, trying to gauge if that was a threat. He thought he saw the hint of a (undoubtedly) mocking smile before the face disappeared again.

"And I was right, waiting's almost over. Let's get you two inside." Ed felt a sharp tugging on his bonds before he was separated from the floor. The world tilted once, no twice, as he was adjusted to be carried more easily. There was a pressing on his stomach and Ed figured he was on the guy's shoulder.

A door was kicked open and artificial light filtered in, blinding Ed for a moment before the truth caught up to him: Mustang wasn't here.

Ed panicked, looking around for any sight of the man or some sort of struggle but only found stacked crates and plain stone walls, no scorch marks visible.

They were talking about killing Mustang, disposing of his body. Was he already too late? Did they already pass the border? Did they kill Mustang and he just slept through it?

Tears came to his eyes at the thought. Ed started blinking rapidly, but could do nothing about it. He felt the other captive's wide-eyed gaze on him, filled with concern, but he couldn't look because he knew he would see it in her eyes, the accusations of _your fault, your fault, you were the only one who could save him and he died, it's your fault._

He hiccuped, a small sob making its way past the gag and the vile man focused his attention on him. "Oh? It just now hit you with what's happening? I'm surprised you're so upset, you seemed to have a lot of fight in you when we picked you up. Oh well, I guess this'll make your cooperation easier."

Edward wanted to snarl at him for that. He wanted to bite and chew and rip his arms out. He had just lost the only adult who'd ever understood him. The only adult who was willing to help. Self-serving and convoluted as it was, Mustang offered him a chance to stop his all-encompassing guilt from what he'd done. To move forward.

But he didn't know that. And he wouldn't care. All he saw was that his captive was crying from having his life ripped out from under him. He probably didn't even know who he was. What he could do if he could just free his hands…

Ed knew it was futile - knew it was only going to cause him pain - but he started struggling. He kicked and screamed and headbutted until, despite his restraints, he was able to knock the guy off balance, Ed and the girl tumbling with him.

"You fucking brat!" Their captor had made it back to his feet, clutching his jaw so tightly that he looked like one of those statues in a thinker pose, admittedly more angry, of course.

Ed snorted. Thinker kicked him in the stomach. Gold eyes met dark blue in challenge. He raised his foot to kick again.

"Stop!" Another guy that he hadn't seen before was rushing towards them, raising a clipboard in the air. Ed was curious about what he had to say, but the man switched to Drachman, making all attempts at listening in impossible.

Instead, Ed turned his attention to the girl, still on the ground where they had fallen. She was older than him, that much was obvious. Little bits of her mousy hair were flecked with grey, but not enough to make her older than her mid thirties. The only wrinkles on her face were the marks on her forehead, creased in concern for him.

He had noticed how she hadn't seemed to struggle, even when he did. And her eyes were filled with sadness, not fear. _So she had already accepted her fate then_. _Had she been awake much longer than he had? Had she seen what became of Mustang?_ Ed couldn't read whether or not she'd seen death. He wasn't that good at people in general. And with the only available body language being the eyes… he was hopeless.

Ed looked down, sighing through his nose. Something, deep inside, told him that his Commanding Officer wouldn't go down without a fight. That his weird sixth sense would wake him up even in sleep and warn him to high-tail it out of here while he could. But he already looked so dead when they got hit by that car…

A shoulder bumped softly into him, halting his thoughts. The girl had rolled over and was now looking over at him again. Ed couldn't tell if she was trying to communicate or somehow sensed his hurt and was trying to comfort him, but he put on as big of a smile as he could muster around the gag, hopefully reassuring her.

When he got out of here, he'd have to bring her as well. Though he'd wreck havoc on this place first.

_He couldn't leave without finding out what happened to Mustang_.

"-up." The talking, Drachman in language, had now returned to Amestrian, and Ed honed in on the voices.

He was snagged by the ropes on his wrists and hauled over the shoulder of the doctor-looking man. "Up we go." This time, his legs were held tight at the thighs, so his kicking escapade wouldn't be possible again.

He glanced briefly at the girl, who was being manhandled by the other. "Put us down," he wanted to growl, but was only left with garbled gibberish.

The guy laughed, and Ed huffed, a close parallel to earlier events, except this time he wasn't able to lash out at his captor. Though, if he insulted Mustang, Edward would find a way. (He'd find a way, regardless, but he'd make it hurt extra).

They were carried down a set of halls that Ed tried to memorize, but they were so expansive that he found himself unable to think of much else. As if sensing his plan, the man carrying him would twist to chat with his companion, not putting too much of an effort into hindering his observations, but enough to make it a struggle.

There came a point, when the alchemist's chest felt caved in with how hard his shoulder scraped against Ed's ribs, that the two captors separated. Ed looked on in panic at the girl, knowing full well that his eyes were wide in worry. If they separated, he didn't know if he would find her again.

She made eye contact, letting her shoulders fold into a shrug as if to say, "what can you do?", in an attempt to comfort him like he was a child.

_To her you are._

Ed felt a sense of humiliation at that, irrational though it was. _He_ was the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People. It was _him_ that was supposed to reassure her. In a useless show of anger, he drove his knees into the man's shoulder, pitifully weak with the lack of leverage. The guy just propped him up a little, causing a new wave of pain to come rushing into his stomach. Edward seethed.

"Almost there," the guy said, and Ed promised himself to make the most undignified of nicknames for each of the men who'd kidnapped him.

The most disturbing part about this was that they weren't even acting like this was a kidnapping! That they didn't just possibly kill a man for being in the wrong place at the wrong time! It was like they were having a friendly afternoon of tea-time and other diplomatic bullshit. Even the guy who'd ended up beating his stomach in had acted all jovially up until the point Ed knocked him over.

_Left. Right. Right. Left._

Focusing on the route he would use to escape was the only thing he could do right now. He'd be damned if he messed it up.

After a few more minutes of travel, they made it to a single door, standing alone from all other openings in the hallway.

"This is where you'll be staying," the man said. "I'm sorry about the accommodations, but until we find your transmutation circle, I'm afraid we can't give you a proper room."

He kicked open the door - one that looked like heavyset metal - and brought them into the room. It was padded with a white cloth that looked like it had seen better days.

The man set him down gently on the material and reached over him to remove his gag. "We can't really remove your bindings, at least until we find your circle, but maybe you could speed things up?"

Ed clenched his teeth. If they found out he was the Fullmetal Alchemist would he end up in the same boat as Mustang? Or would the results be even worse?

"There's no way in hell that I'm telling you shit."

The man blinked, a friendly smile adorning his face. "Oh well, I imagined that. But we'll find out eventually. I have to go examine the others now, but I'll be back tomorrow with a proper alchemist. We'll figure you out in no time. Cooperate and we might even let you interact with the others."

There was no, 'we'll let you free,' or 'you won't get hurt,' which would be much more reassuring than "we'll let you interact with the others". Ed didn't know what to make of that.

The doctor soon left, door swinging shut. He heard the bolting of a lock and then Edward found himself in complete darkness.

He was left alone for a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of updated three days late, but it's not too long of a wait... I hope.  
> Anyways, trigger warnings are very few as this was a much lighter chapter, only light slapping and nonconsensual drug use.  
> Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or FMA:B

The first thing he’d done in his isolation was to tug experimentally on his bonds. They were rope and therefore should have been easy to snap with his automail arm, but the way he was tied left him little room for leverage. After a few very long minutes of tossing and turning about, Ed lay still, panting.

The constant struggling did, however, end up harming his flesh wrist. Even with his black coat covering it, rope burn bit at his skin, fitting in nicely with the still-fresh bruises from the car impact.

Just another bullet point on his long list of reasons to hate these guys…

The rope burn did give him an idea, though. If he could manage to make it bleed enough, he might be able to draw a circle with the blood that dripped down his wrist. It was morbid, sure, but it was far more painless than what these guys might have planned for him. What they did to Mustang… 

No. What they  _ might _ have done to Mustang.

He was sure they wouldn’t miss a chance to brag about killing the high and mighty Flame Colonel. They were already sick in the head, afterall. Unless they didn’t know that Ed was the Fullmetal Alchemist…

Dammit!

It was so infuriating being kept out of the loop. He had so many theories, but didn’t know enough to act on them. 

Escape was on the forefront of his mind, but where was he? What kind of manpower did they have? How many hostages were here?

Ed supposed he should stop calling them hostages. It was obvious that they were looking for alchemists (if what he heard before his drug induced slumber was to be believed), and if they wanted a real hostage, then Mustang would be the best option out of any of them, so why would they want to throw him away?

There were too many variables in this equation. He couldn’t attempt escape right now. Right now he would have to double down on his resolve and stay where he was. Count the number of captives and find out what their purpose was. Get everyone out and destroy enemy resources. He’d treat this as a mission, using his blood to create a transmutation circle only after the first part was complete.

***

It was maybe two hours or maybe only twenty minutes of attempting to sleep before his mind started wandering into dangerous places. Those bridges best left unturned and roads that he wouldn’t cross kind of places.

Thoughts of his superior flashed through his mind enough to give him headaches. Ed felt - he knew - that if Mustang was truely dead, then he’d be in a bigger state of panic right now. But a lingering doubt in the back of his mind kept telling him that he was wrong, the Flame Alchemist really was gone. Permanently.  _ What kind of person did that make him? To not even shed a tear about it? _

He tried to think happy thoughts - he really did - but happy thoughts all connected to Al and what if he was caught to? And what would they do to him once they found out?

Needless to say, Ed didn’t even get close to sleep that night.

***

By the time they did come to get him, Ed was laying face down in the corner of his cell, adding names to the astronomically long list of insults he had for them. To his growing disappointment, nothing he came up with was fitting enough.

“Get up boy!” He was greeted with a kick to the side. His ribs screamed in protest as his bound body bounced off the wall. The bruises he’d acquired during the car impact made themselves known. Overnight they had completely developed, leaving his body stiff and aching.

“Get up, I say!” He was kicked once again, a breathless moan leaving his body. Deliberately slow, Ed pushed himself to his knees, using his chest as leverage like some pathetic worm. He glared, gaze hardening when he realized it was the ghoul-faced man who had so rudely woken him out of his musings.  _ At least he’s not off tormenting more innocent civilians. _

“What do you want?” His voice came out horse, which was weird cause not all that much time had passed since he’d last had water, right?

“Follow me,” pale-face sneered, “Boss’ll want to speak with you.”

“I thought the other guy was supposed to come and get me. The doctor. What ever happened to that? He decided that a little kid was too far below his pay grade and had you come instead?”

He was none-too-gently yanked up by the scruff of his neck. It was a pleasant surprise, since he’d been expecting a slap to the face. The other man - Pale-Faced Bastard, he’d settled on - leaned over until his minty breath stuck on Ed’s face. “Listen here, brat. The only reason you’re here and not dead in some ditch is that you showed a tiny bit of potential with your alchemy. If the boss finds you useful, you’ll live. If not, you die. But let me tell you right now that if you pull any kind of crap, he won’t be patient enough to find out.”

“Fine, but we’re going to have a problem if you expect me to ‘follow you’, as you so kindly put it.” Ed wriggled his legs a bit at the statement, wit fueled by pure spite.

He actually was slapped that time, head snapping to the side with the force.

It was a little too late before he realized the other man was pulling the gag back on. “Mmmmphh!”

“I can tell our conversation isn’t going to be very pleasant without this.” He gave the material one last tug before he twisted Ed around in his hold, grabbing his bound arms. “Here we are, nice and quiet.”

The blonde supposed he thought himself charming, what with the nonchalant way he spoke. His skin was clear and if Ed wasn’t so conditioned to be suspicious of those around him, he might have thought him attractive. Since he was, however, Ed found himself thinking all the more darker accusations of his captive. Like how that man had probably charmed his way into kidnapping other unsuspecting alchemists. How many times had he dragged a captive down the hall like he was doing to Ed?

Ed tried to lift his legs up and land a blow in the crook of his knee, but was met with air. He was trained by Izumi Curtis. There was no way he simply missed. Pale-Faced Bastard indeed.

After about five attempts, Ed was unceremoniously dropped, sending an aching wave through his body. The man was knocking on the metal wall with a crack in the middle. One of those fancy doors then.

“Gustav, he’s here! The little blonde one that we told you about!”

Ed grunted at that, restrained from any other ways of lashing out at his captor for that comment. The guy didn’t even look. He was instead enraptured by words coming out in Drachman tongue from the other side of the wall.

It must have been some invitation, because the door slid open, leaving a three by eight foot gap where the wall once was. He was grabbed once again, this time held so that his feet touched the floor, and was made to walk an embarrassing half shuffle. His feet were tied tightly to do anything other than wiggle, and it must have looked ridiculous, but that was probably the point. To humiliate him and let him know who’s in charge.

“Ahhh, you weren’t exaggerating. He really is a kid.” Ed honed in on the voice laced in a thick Drachman accent. Though it seemed like everyone here could speak the language, they all spoke like they were born and raised in Amestris. This guy was different.

“I suppose this makes our job easier, doesn’t it?” he mused. The guy reached out and grabbed his face, nails digging into Ed’s cheeks as he turned the blonde’s head this way and that. Due to the close proximity, Ed was also able to take a good look at him. He had the dark hair and strong jaw that was so stereotypical of the Drachman race, as well as navy blue eyes so dark they could be mistaken for black. He had tan skin with an eerily pale sheen cast over it by the darker features. What was most peculiar about him, however, was the thin pink scar that trailed down his cheek, slightly faded from age. All scars had stories and this one looked too deep to be inflicted by himself.

This must be Gustav.

“Micheal,” a voice to the side said, “We ask that you take your leave now.” It was the doctor, Ed could tell that much from the cheery tone. He was dropped to the ground. A grunt behind him and the sound of metal screeching open told him that Pale-Faced Bastard had left the premises.

“Doctor  Vasilyev , I think we should take his gag off. I have a few suspicions I need to confirm and it’d be a lot more annoying to do with it on.”

Of all the things he could focus on, Ed couldn’t help his curiosity of why they were revealing their names so casually. They had to understand that someone would get out and report them. If it were Mustang in his place (though he hated to admit it), he’d have already found a way out and arrested them by now.  _ Were they that confident in their security? _

The Doctor,  Vasilyev , reached down to gently tug at the cloth, and Ed was almost tempted to keep biting on it to spite them. Almost.

“What do you want?” Ed spit the gag about with an exaggerated hawk, making eye contact with this Gustav character.

“I just want to ask a few questions, that’s all.” The man spoke slowly in a pleasant tone, Drachman accent seeping through. Ed’s stomach squirmed, knowing very well that he wouldn’t answer any of his questions. That, and the most pleasant ones were the most scary when mad…

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you anything?”

Gustav let out a small chuckle, mirroring Amestris’ furher in an eerie fashion. “I think that confirms one of my theories already.” Sobering up, he said, “But it is in your best interest to answer my questions.”

Ed sealed his lips, meeting the other man’s eyes in a silent battle of wills. Gustav sat down in front of him on a chair that the alchemist was embarrassed to have not noticed before.

“First of all, I would like to know your name. Calling you boy or kid would get quite boring, and I doubt you want to be assigned a number.”

“Barry the Chopper.”

Gustav raised an eyebrow and smiled good-naturedly. “Barry the Chopper? I thought he was supposed to be held up in some fancy Amestrian prison, waiting to be executed. Try again, kid.”

“Fuhrer Bradley.”

A sigh. “Now this is getting ridiculous. I should slap you for your insubordination, but I don’t really feel like it.”

“Insubordination! Who do you think I am, some kind of soldier?”

Gustav stiffened up, leveling a hard gaze at Ed’s head. “Yes. Yes I do.”

The shock wasn’t easy to hide. Ed probably had some sort of wide-eyed look in his eyes and the whole jaw dropping to the floor cliche before he got his act together and rolled his eyes. “You’re delusional if you think that a kid like me would be accepted into the military.”

“A kid like you indeed. I’ll ask this one more time. Tell me your name.”

“I thought I made it clear. I’m not saying.” Although the words were directed at Gustav, Ed’s eyes were on  Vasilyev  who was preparing a needle of some sort in the back. Ed has heard stories of drugs that could lower inhibition and coerce others to reveal well-kept secrets. If that was the case… if  Vasilyev  was getting ready to inject him with that particular drug, then Amestris’ security could be compromised.

If it wasn’t already. The familiarity his Drachmen kidnappers had with Amestrian tongue wasn’t boding well.

The man sighed again, holding the bridge of his nose between his forefingers to calm himself. “See, this is why I think you’re more than you seem. Civilians would have no reason to lie about their names. In fact, they’d probably be too scared to say anything else.” Leaning forward in his chair, he said, “But you aren’t like that. Now, I haven’t exactly been to Amestris in a few years, and even then it was only for a brief visit, but wasn’t there this big deal about a little kid making it into their oh so special state alchemist program?”

Ed tensed.

“What was his name again? I’m sure you’ve heard of it - being an Amestrian citizen and all.”

Apparently, that wasn’t a rhetorical question because after a few moments of silence, Gustav drove the heel of his boot down onto Ed’s bound shin. The metal one.

Eyes widening in some crazed gaze, the man said, “Oh? That didn’t  _ feel _ like a flesh leg. I suppose that it’s artificial then? Hey, didn’t your country’s favorite dog have a prosthetic too?”

This wasn’t good. “You’re relying too much on coincidences.”

Ignoring Ed, Gustav turned to the other occupant in the room. “ Vasilyev , come over here, for a second.” Once he had gotten the other man's attention (the needle was left behind, thank god), he bent over to pull at Ed’s hair. “Blonde hair, worn in a braid. Short-”

“I’m not short!”

“-Stature, two automail limbs. It all checks out, doesn’t it?”

Ed’s bangs had fallen over his eyes amidst the tugging, so he couldn’t exactly see the doctor’s reaction, but he heard the calm voice state it’s approval.

“Interesting…” His hair was released. “That is fortunate, isn’t it?” The man seemed to be talking to himself now more than anything - which was fine, because Ed needed time to process the fact that this was  _ not _ good news at all. They knew who he was. Escaping would be ten times harder than it was before… that is, if they don’t do to him what they did to Mustang.  _ Might _ have done.

“-And to think, we might have never been put in this position if it weren’t for dumb luck. Micheal didn’t hear wrong, after all. It must be God’s will that we’ve stumbled upon such an advantageous gain. Doctor, we’ll put him with the other one for now.”

Ed noticed the hesitant look of the doctor, and couldn’t miss the garbled sounds of the foreign language. The question was, did they do so instinctually or to try to hide something from him.

All of a sudden, the blonde found himself pinned to the floor, unable to struggle thanks to his still-bound limbs. “Hey! Let me go!” he yelled, spasming uselessly under firm hands. The sound of footsteps echoing against the floor alerted him that one of them was going to the left-side of the room, where all the lab equipment was.

Where the needle was.

“Let go! Let go! Let-” He was slapped on the face. Hard.

In his shocked stupor, Ed briefly felt the cool touch of metal before his vision swam, colors and shapes melting together enough to make him sick.

“What'd you… do…”

He was left answered, instead finding himself hauled over  Vasilyev ’s bony shoulder like the day before. “Be nice and quiet now kid.” The voice came over him like a warm blanket, smothering the rest of his thoughts into obliviousness.

This wasn’t right and he knew it. It wasn’t like he felt comforted or even safe in the other man’s presence, but rather that the other man’s aura was so strong that he couldn’t focus on anything else. The weird contrast between the omnipotent solidity and blurring images really did make him sick this time.

The stomach acid was another thing he could focus on, gross as it was, due to the quick cooling feeling against warm skin - that and the wretched smell. By focusing on that, he could give somewhat of a silent fuck you to  Vasilyev , who was still holding him oh so very gently.

Eventually, though, they must have entered a room - his new room - because he found his center of gravity shifted and he felt detachedly as something nice and cold was attached to his wrists and ankles, spreading them far apart. Multiple people were probably involved in this, because certain shapes began to move more than others, a whirlwind of color against the warping grey canvas.

Garbled gibberish was said and then the shapes vanished, the nausea dying down some, leaving Ed alone with disconnected thoughts. He didn’t really understand what was going on and even if he did, he did not think the experience would be any less frightening. In a way, it had felt like when Truth had poured all of that information into his brain, but not. There was no point of understanding, just that terrible pressure prodding at his mind. Ed wanted to scream - realized that he had somehow managed to keep quiet during the whole ideal - but was too tired to try.

He was so tired… He needed… he needed Mustang to come back here and rescue him. He could handle all the teasing and all of the Bastard’s secretive codes as long as he was alive.

He needed Mustang to be alive.

***

Alphonse stared out of the open window in a small apartment his brother and him had shared. After about an hour of waiting and three hours of searching, they had to add kidnapping of state alchemists to the initial charges from attempted kidnapping of a civilian.

His brother was kidnapped. His flesh and blood, vulnerable, human brother was in the hands of kidnappers. Alphonse didn’t- he didn’t know what to do.

Maybe it was cruel to only be thinking of his brother, to not be focusing on Mustang as well, but his brother wasn’t calm like Mustang. He didn’t hold his tongue when he needed to. He couldn’t negotiate his way out of a crisis. That had always been Al’s job. And now, Al wasn’t with him. Edward had Mustang but even Mustang couldn’t reign in Ed’s temper like Al could.

Hawkeye had warned him to wait. To not do anything foolhardy. But waiting seemed to be all he ever did, and Alphonse just couldn’t wait anymore. Alphonse looked out at the setting sun one more time.

He’d go looking for missed evidence tonight. Tomorrow, if the victim didn’t give them any useful information, he’d go looking for his brother himself.

***

It took awhile for the walls to stop moving. The process was gradual, a steady decrease of shifting shapes and the colors become more clearly attached to one object than all at once. In that transition time, Ed had tugged at his chains, once cool and relaxing now freezing and restraining.

The room itself was cold, Ed could say that much. Restrained as he was, he was spared from the chilly ground that would have no doubt forced him to curl up in a ball. The problem was, though, that he couldn’t curl up at all. With his arms forced three feet apart and his legs spread eagle, he couldn’t hide in his body heat, instead forced to hang there and withstand the chilly temperature of the room for however long he would be left here. Shivering became painful. The metal cuffs bit into his flesh limbs, a weird combination of chaffing and frostbite at work. Ed wondered if they’d forgotten about him, although he knew logically that he hadn’t been left for long.

A trickle of sweat, out of place in the cold, cold room, made its way down his neck. The drop reminded him that he hadn’t had a chance to piss since before he’d gotten kidnapped. If he was already out of state… who could say how long it had been? Ed gulped.  _ Okay focus. Stay calm. Judging by the pressure in your bladder, it’s been way longer than a few hours since you’ve been abducted. But it’s very unlikely it’s been more than a day. _

A new twinge of pain made him want to pull his legs inward. What a lot of people don’t talk about are the more embarrassing parts of this whole kidnapping business - either that or their kidnappers were a lot more accommodating. Judging by what they did to Mustang, that wouldn’t be that far off.  _ No- don’t dwell on the past. Keep moving forwards. _

The automail feels heavy right now, but once Ed recovered a little bit more, he could try to pull it free. Already, the slight clinking sound made it obvious that he had more leverage than before. It didn’t matter that the chain was sturdier than rope; Winry’s automail was much stronger.

A pained groan caught his attention, making Ed wonder if he hadn’t been left alone at all. Drifting his eyes over to where he heard the sound, he purposefully ignored the bloodstains on the dusty, old floor. In the distance, at the rightmost corner of his eye, he could make out the outline of a figure if he shifted his head to touch the wall.

They were on the ground - chained or just curled up into a ball, he didn’t know. The lighting seemed fine enough to make out black hair on the figure, but it’s length was unclear. Ed strained further, neck hurting from the stretch of the angle. The figure was wearing hospital issued clothes, bandages wrapped around a mangled wrist. They were big, big enough to be an adult, and Ed could now tell that the hair ended just on the nape of their neck. Actually, based off of the stature, the figure was probably male. So wet tendrils of black hair came to rest just before it reached  _ his _ back, styled in the traditional cut of Amestris. He moved, as if sensing Ed’s gaze, and slowly lifted his head up to show his-  _ oh _ .

“Mustang!” Ed reached out, forgetting his shackles in the moment. The quick halt in his movement didn’t stop him, and Ed used his reversed momentum to find leverage in the wall, pushing back and tugging at his automail arm with all of his might. 

“Mustang!” He repeated. “Hold on!”

The chains were rattling, making so much noise that he barely even heard the soft call.

“Fullmetal.”

Ed stopped all movement immediately. “Yeah?” he whispered, mistrusting of the image before him. His struggles must have dislodged some of the chain from the wall, because he could see Mustang better now.

The man left out a relieved breath, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ed realized how raspy it sounded.

“Hey, Bastard,” he said, calmer, gentler. “You’re okay, aren’t you?”

“Just peachy, thanks.” Mustang chuckled, a small wheezing sound escaping his throat. When it came to Mustang, you could usually tell when he was being sarcastic or stupidly in denial. With the raspy voice and the sleepy tone, it was hard to tell the difference.

“Did… did they drug you too?” Ed asked purely out of desperation. It wasn’t that the fact wasn’t important to know, but rather that he needed to hear his voice again to confirm he was still alive.

“I-” he stopped, twitching bodily as he tried to maneuver himself into a more comfortable position. He wasn’t chained, Ed noticed, but instead had cylindrical shapes around his hands, most likely to prevent him from using his infamous flame alchemy.

“These came out of my own recklessness.” Roy must have noticed his staring. “When I woke up, I was in a hospital room of some sort. Remembered what happened right away and attacked. I think I forgot that I was missing my gloves or something because I tried to snap and the next thing you know I was pinned to the bed, and these things were brought out.” He lifted his hands. “Some guy snapped them around each wrist and brought out a tool? Or some sort? It was like a lighter, but a lot more focused.”

Ed sucked in a breath, already guessing what happened. “They- they-”

“It’s alright, Fullmetal. They’re third degree burns, so they don’t hurt as bad.”

A flash of anger lit up in his gut. “Third degree burns! Those are the most dangerous! If you don’t get them treated, then you could get metal poisoning!”

Mustang inhaled like a cavity was in his throat, then started to laugh again. Beads of sweat were standstill on his forehead, and his wet hair probably wasn’t from a shower, either. “I might be a little out of it, but I’m pretty sure lead is the leading cause of metal poisoning, not iron.”

He could tell what the cuffs were made out of. That piece of information was filed away in the back of his head for later, when they would inevitably escape. “You dumbass… you can’t be sure.”

He vainly pulled on his chains again.

“No.”

“What?”

“Stop pulling.”

Ed gave one last half hearted tug before relaxing his wrist. “Why?”

“ _ Because _ ,” Mustang said, speaking slowly as if he was talking to a small child, “You don’t want to play all of your cards right now. There’s too many unknowns. If they figure out what you’re capable of now, before you’re ready to escape, they might take it from you.”

“I won’t give them a chance to. Besides, you need a doctor, and it’s pretty obvious that you’re not going to get one here.”

“‘M not leaving.”

“What was that?”

“ _ I’m not leaving. _ ”

Ed looked at the man, exasperated. “Why?”

“When I first woke up, there was another person with me.” The girl. “We were carted off the medbay together. Something about him resisting and ending up with a stab wound.”

“Him?” Ed questioned. “You mean it wasn’t the girl?”

Mustang looked up at him with dark obsidian eyes, a brief flicker of understanding crossing his face before fading back into a contemplative mask. “So this confirms that there were multiple targets. Not just unfortunate witnesses like you and I.” The man made to move his enshrouded hand before wincing and moving his arm back down.

“Mustang… Are you really okay? Why did they bring you to medbay?”

The man winced. “It’s really not that bad. We were lucky that the car wasn’t going all that fast, all I got was a broken wrist and a few bruised ribs - nothing life threatening so I don’t have to be monitored all the time. It’ll make our plans easier. I just forget that the burns weren’t so bad where my wrists weren’t directly exposed to the metal. It just hurts more, is all.”

Ed wanted to drive his boot through the next Drachman he’d see so that they could understand the pain.  _ Nothing life threatening _ , he said. Ed’s dealt with bruised ribs before. Even if they weren’t life threatening, they still made breathing a challenge and a half, and bending over like Mustang had felt like hell.

Sensing the somber mood, Ed tried to engage in lighter matters. As light as he could make things without being obvious, that is.

“Well, I guess this means you aren’t much of a bastard after all.”

For the first time in his life, Ed saw Mustang look confused. “What?”

“Oh nothing, it’s just that I’d always thought I’d be the one telling you to stay behind and help the little guys, not the other way around.”

Mustang gave him a flat glare. “That’s not funny.” Smiling slightly, he added, “Though I do appreciate that you’re finally accepting your height, you don’t exactly have a reputation for thinking level headedly and asking for help when you need it.” The last part of the sentence came a little more forceful, making Ed wonder if…

“Hey! Wait a second! I never meant anything like that!”

Mustang smirked.

“I’m not short, you overgrown mule!”

“Mule?” An elegant eyebrow arched up. “Was that supposed to be a play on my name? Mustangs are a type of horse, you know.”

“Horses, mules, donkeys, they’re all the same.”

“They are not.”

“Yeah they ar-”

“Fullmetal.”

The abrupt change in tone paused Ed mid sentence. Mustang was looking at him with that gaze that held one’s attention hostage. He nodded his attentiveness.

“I loathe to admit that I don’t know what they want us for, or even what they plan to do to us. They might resort to… most untasteful tactics to get what they want, and if they’re willing to do so, I doubt they’ll have any objections to torturing a child.” Eyes softening, Mustang said, “Because I’m asking you to stay here, I’ll try to keep the attention off of you. Just let me do the talking.”

“You can’t be suggesting-”

He was interrupted by a cold, hard voice. “Stay calm and don’t do anything rash. That’s an order, Fullmetal.”

Ed nodded his head in resignation. He couldn’t get a court martial, he just couldn’t. Not with Alphonse’s body on the line.

The sound of footsteps came clanging. Mustang must have been able to hear them when he could not. That’s why he brought that up.

_ But since when does getting your bodies back correlate to you letting other people get hurt for you instead? Especially when they’d already made it clear how little they care about the individual’s life in the first place. _

Looking at the injured man besides him and to the screeching door ahead, he made his decision. Ed steeled his face.

_ I’m sorry Bastard, but that’s something I can’t promise you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a little light, but I figured that Ed and Mustang are the resilient type, and if nothing horrible (I say this as I've already made them go through a car crash and kidnapping) has happened to them yet, they'd be more or less alright. Next chapter though... we'll see...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if the quality dropped during the second half of the chapter, I was using my phone to write and it just isn't the same. Anyways, tell me what you think or if I should continue. Each chapter should be around five thousand words of actual story, so my update time might not be the best, but I'll try to keep the longest you wait at a month. More importantly, make sure to stay safe and healthy! (Hopefully these are the longest author's notes I leave on this story, because I know they can get annoying. I'll try to keep them to a minimum in the future.)


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